


Not at Home to Callers

by Somedeepmystery



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Secret Relationship, Sexy Times, gaby is not bothered, interruptions, solo has terrible timing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:25:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedeepmystery/pseuds/Somedeepmystery
Summary: Illya and Gaby try to celebrate, but the other people in their life don't seem to be cooperating...





	Not at Home to Callers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Turningleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turningleaf/gifts).



> Are you tired of me yet!!!???? Hahaha... I hope not, because we are NOT DONE!
> 
> Another Title stolen from Emily Dickinson.
> 
> Belated and thanks to diadema and festiveviolet31 for their beta, help and support. They read over and gave input on ALL of these and I am so very appreciative. <3

 

 

 

 

It was supposed to be just the two of them, but somehow things never seemed to work out that way. This time, however, it was Waverly and not Solo, who was intruding on their – albeit _unsanctioned_ – plans.

“I’m sorry to be the one to end your holidays early,” he’d said, in that very British way of his. “But I am glad I’ve caught the two of you together.”

Another mission, another week of listening devices, cover roles and mud... somehow there was always mud.

Gaby supposed that if you got married in secret, you couldn’t really expect people to respect your anniversary.

☙

Now, they are home, quietly sneaking back into the city under the radar. Illya’s apartment is, officially, downstairs, but he's never there, keeping the place only to help maintain their ruse. They make their way up the steps in a hush, Illya’s hand broad on the small of her back, and Gaby tries not to fumble the keys as she opens their front door.

The moment they are inside, Illya puts the suitcases aside and lifts her into his arms, pressing her back against the door to help him hold her as he plunders her mouth. Sweet, deep kisses laced with need and hunger claim her again and again, and she surrenders to it fully.

“I have missed you, _Wife_ ,” he says against her throat, and Gaby smiles at the word, one hand gripping the back of his head.

“Are you going to show me how much?”

“Yes,” he replies. “I will show you. You will fully understand my pain when I am finished.”

“ _Your_ pain?” she mocks. “You think a wife doesn’t crave her husband?”

He growls at the use of the word, and it delights her, fills her with such impossible contentment, to give him that pleasure. “Of course, but it is not the same.”

“Ha!” she objects, but then he’s sucking at her throat, and she sighs instead of arguing. “Are you going to give this demonstration against the door?” she asks breathlessly, and he pulls away, a wicked, little smile lifting his lips.

“No,” he says, setting her down and then dropping to his knees in front of her. He pushes up her dark tweed travel skirt and tugs at her panties. “I am only going to start here.”

He moves in, bussing his hot mouth over her center, lifting a leg over his shoulder to give him better access. Gaby stifles a cry as her head falls back against the door with a thud.

☙

The next morning dawns quiet and still. Illya feels the weight of his wife’s body next to his and hums at the feeling of gratification and peace, that comes over him. He rolls to his side to look and finds her facing away from him, her bare shoulder catching a ray of jealous sunlight. He leans in to kiss it, dragging his lips over her skin to place more kisses at her neck, as he sidles up behind her and drags her body into his.

“Illya,” she sighs and reaches back to touch him.

“Good morning,” he rumbles. “Happy anniversary.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Today is not our anniversary,” she reminds him. He simply shrugs.

“We are unconventional,” he returns. “We have been married one year, one week, and three days... is its own anniversary.”

Gaby turns in his arms and smiles up at him. “I do like how you think, Husband.”

A loud, appreciative purr escapes him at the word, and her grin widens.

“No one knows we are here,” she says then and cups his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.

“There are no missions,” he murmurs, then goes back for more of her lips.

“Whatever shall we do with the time?”

“I have few ideas,” he suggests, sliding a hand down her belly and between her legs where she is soft and warm; presses in, earns a mewl of pleasure.

A loud knock at the door has them both jumping, and Gaby slams a hand over Illya’s mouth as if he was the one making noise.

“Gaby?” It’s Solo’s voice, and Illya nearly growls with annoyance. “I know you and Peril are in there,” he calls.

“He has bugged the apartment,” Illya hisses, and Gaby pats his cheek.

“He’s bluffing.”

“Don’t make me find my own way in!” Solo calls, and Illya glowers in the general direction of their front door, which is not quite visible through the open French doors that designate their bedroom.

“I will kill him,” he says. “It is long time coming.”

“He will not get in,” Gaby says. “Now, go back to what you were doing.”

Illya looks at her in complete shock.

“What?” she whispers. “I told you he will not get in, and, as you said, it _is_ our anniversary.” She throws off the blanket, revealing her nakedness to him, rolling over so he can see all of her.

“Gaby...” he starts, but already her body is drawing him in, like a siren call. “He is very good at picking locks.”

She almost laughs. Only in this moment would he ever admit Solo was good at anything.

“I know, but not every lock can be picked,” she says, pulling him down to rest on top of her.

“He will _try_.”

Gaby shrugs. “Let him. It doesn’t have to stop us.”

Illya chuckles, shakes his head. “You are incorrigible.”

“And you are keeping me waiting, _Husband_ ,” she coos. She lifts her hips to tease. “Your wife needs your attentions.”

The growl is a low rumble in his chest as he looks down at where she is pressed against him.

“You must be very quiet,” he says slowly, adjusting himself, their positions, so that he can enter her.

Gaby arches her back and grasps at his biceps, biting her lip as he fills her. “I will try,” she admits, finally, and Illya lets out another breathy laugh as he withdraws, pushes in again.

“God damnit, Gaby!” Solo calls from behind the door. “What the hell is this? Fort Knox?”

Illya feels her nestle her face into his chest, kiss him there. He shifts and bends so that he can at least see her, pulling her leg over his thigh. “You are genius,” he says, then sighs at the feel of her, so hot and tight around him.

“I know,” she admits and then shoves up and rolls him onto his back. “Aren’t you glad you married me?”

He looks up at her, blue eyes wide with wonder and desire. “Every day, _мое солнце_ ,” he murmurs, and tugs her down snug against him, making her gasp. “Every, single day.”


End file.
